LITMIR.BIZ

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her lips more, inviting, asking her for greater entrance. A hunger roared up through her, and Khat responded to his scalding invitation. She felt him groan. There was no sound, just vibration. It sent elation through her as her fingers curved shyly around his thick neck, pulling him closer, wanting deeper connection with him.

      Her knees felt like so much jelly as his tongue slowly traced her lower lip, explored the corner of her mouth and slid deeper, finding her tongue. Suddenly, Khat felt a bolt of white-hot heat clench in her channel, and it was almost painful in its swift contraction. A whimper escaped her.

      They were out of time. Two Apaches thundered high overhead, guard dogs to protect the Medevac when it landed. They would be on the lookout for enemy. Mike regretfully eased his mouth from hers, breathing unevenly, staring hard down into her drowsy-looking eyes. Her lips were glistening, slightly swollen from the power of his kiss. He released Khat but kept his hand lightly on her shoulder. She looked bewildered as she stared up at him. There was burning arousal in her dark eyes. He’d felt her innocent response in their kiss, sweet and unsure with him. Her slender fingers tightened against his shoulder.

      He framed her face with his hand, leaning close, inches between them. “Listen to me, Khat. I’ve got your back. You call me anytime you need help. All right?”

      His guttural growl sifted through her shaking body. Khat had never been kissed like this. She felt weak, hot and needy. All from one kiss! The palm of his hand was rough against her cheek. She saw the hunter’s intensity in his slitted eyes, heard the growl in his low voice. He meant it. Barely able to nod, she couldn’t find her voice, so shocked by his molten kiss. So many emotions were running through her, some good, some terrifying monsters from her past, that she felt a lump form in her throat as she rested against his tall, strong body. Mike exuded an animal-like protection toward her, as if she had just been claimed as his mate. There was an overwhelming sense that she was his woman. She could feel it.

      Mike was taken aback as he saw tears form in her eyes, slide silently down her cheeks. He felt their warmth slide beneath his palm, dampening his flesh. He used his thumb to push the tears away from the high slope of her cheek. The sound of the Black Hawk grew closer. A minute out, maybe. Damn! Frustrated, he could read her eyes like windows into her soul, seeing desire mingling with terror, and he couldn’t translate all of what was going on within Khat. Fear of him? Impossible! She could have stepped away from him at any point. She could have refused to kiss him. But she was here, standing before him, her face a map of how she was feeling inwardly toward him. Her lower lip trembled, and she looked away, shame in her expression.

      “Khat,” he growled, gently forcing her to hold his gaze, “this isn’t over, Angel. Not by a long shot. I’m going to find you. Do you hear me? And when I do, you aren’t walking away from me again. I want to get to know you.”

      Khat closed her eyes, giving a bare nod of her head, his hand trapping her against him. She could hear the Black Hawk’s arrival, the blades puncturing the night air. Pulling away from him, she quickly wiped her eyes, turned and put on her NVGs. Her heart was in utter turmoil, torn, hurting and wanting Mike all at the same time. Compressing her lips, she picked up his ruck and walked to the edge of the bushes and trees.

      The Black Hawk landed. Trying to clear her blown senses, shake off the shock of his unexpected kiss, Khat crouched and then started her run toward the helo. Dust and dirt kicked up, eighty mile an hour gusts created by the rotors. She saw the door slide open, and one aircrew chief hopped out. Giving him the ruck, she stepped aside.

      Tarik was right behind her. He saw Khat remain crouched, quickly moving away, fading into the dust clouds raised by the helo. The crew chief took his M-4, and Mike grabbed the frame of the door, hauling himself inside the cabin. He was going home, and it was the last place he wanted to go right now. As the combat medic guided him to a litter, he sat down, not wanting to lie down. He traded his Kevlar helmet for another helmet, pulling it on, in instant communications with the four men on board.

      “I’m good to go,” he growled. “Thanks for picking me up. Let’s exfil...”

      In seconds, the Black Hawk broke gravity with the earth and quickly turned, heading out over the open, empty desert plain. It picked up speed and altitude swiftly, the twin engines roaring, shaking the helo with rhythmic vibrations. Mike felt suddenly sad. And happy. It was a mix. He’d wanted to kiss Khat ever since he’d become conscious. And she’d liked his kiss. She’d responded to him. He had known there was something special between them; invisible, but raw, alive and heated.

      His hand curled into a fist, and he focused on the combat medic who was asking him a lot of medical questions. He’d have to go to the dispensary, get the arm x-rayed and go through the medical system. Once done, he’d be expected to see the chief of the platoon come tomorrow morning. He’d go back to his tent in the SEAL section of Camp Bravo, climb into his cot and sleep. If he could...

      * * *

      KHAT BLINKED BACK the hot tears that continued to fall. She quickly ran back to the wadi to where the horses were tied. The sound of the Black Hawk and guard dog Apaches would draw any enemies who were around. She would be in danger. Leaping up on Zorah, she used her calf, not the reins, to turn the mare around. She tied the rope to Mina’s halter on the back of her saddle. They would slowly pick their way out of the wadi and up to another goat trail. Khat never took the same route twice.

      In a village where she posed as a nurse, the Taliban had caught and tortured her. Khat savagely shoved down those memories. She had to ride through the night and remain alert for her enemy. Once on a safer trail, her mind revolved back to that capture. She’d been holding medical clinics for a year with great success; gathering intel from the villagers and giving it to her handler in J-bad. The villages along the border were grateful for her riding in on her horse, a packhorse in tow with medical supplies for the men, women and children.

      Her cover was solid because her father had been born in the village of Dur Babba, and she was his daughter, part of the Shinwari Tribe.

      The days of being held, questioned and tortured by Sangar Khogani, chief of the Hill tribe, had changed her life forever. And if not for the village women who risked their own lives to save hers, she wouldn’t be here today. The week they’d hid her in a nearby cave, her back a mass of bloody strips of flesh, had passed in a semiconscious, feverish daze.

      It was weeks later, septic and near death, that one woman villager had walked ten miles into an American forward operating base, asking for help, that Khat was rescued. And it was when she was hospitalized at Bagram, that the terror of nearly dying, the flay that had stripped her flesh from her body, had welled up through her. Khat understood her soul was fractured by the capture and subsequent torture interrogation. She had shut down her violent emotions, stuffed them into a deep, dark hole within herself. As she lay in the hospital recuperating, she became emotionally numb to everything. A robot of sorts, her Afghan blood thirsting for revenge against the Hill tribe for what they did to her and her people.

      The past four years, Khat had left a trail of blood, and she never blinked when killing a Hill tribesman. They’d murdered so many of her people over the years. They had raped Shinwari women, girls and boys. They murdered their husbands, sons and brothers. She stood between her tribe and Sangar Khogani’s Hill tribe.

      It hurt to feel those violent emotions once again, reliving them all, and Khat hated it. Mike’s kiss, his care, ripped the lid off that dark, wounded place within her. She understood he didn’t know what he’d done to her. His intent had been pure and unselfish because she could still feel his strong mouth curved against her own, giving to her, not taking anything away from her.

      Rubbing her cheek, the tears continuing to flow, Khat couldn’t stop them. Mike had unknowingly released all the demons from her past, but he’d also released her as a woman from a dormant state, too.

      Wiping her cheeks dry as she rode, the horse moving silently down the narrow, rock-strewn goat path, the mountain’s giant shadow covering them from the thin moonlight, Khat didn’t want to remember that time. Mike’s kiss had been completely unexpected. He’d blindsided her and yet, she felt no anger over what he’d done. After all, she’d been a willing participant.

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